


The Dark Curse II: A Madness Most Dear

by wanderlustlover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustlover/pseuds/wanderlustlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stay, Rumplestiltskin," she said. "Be my challenge. Be the viper at my breast. Dance," The word curled, with a golden smirk against still ice blue eyes, without a cent of request. "For my amusement."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Curse II: A Madness Most Dear

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr prompt with the following picture, with the challenge "Belle as The Dark One, Go."

  


 

**Prologue:** _‘A Different Ending; A Different Beginning‘_

 

His lips were dry but warm when he shifted, utter incomprehension giving way a tentatively returned pressure, as though some faintest ﬂutter of long forgotten memory of how this went had come to him. He tasted of tea, and the strong bite of metal, and something else.

Languid, thick and coppery, running down her throat, the way the sun was swallowed whole by the mountains at dusk. Warm, caustic, ﬁre raced down through her limbs, roared the deafening warning of lightning through her thoughts, as she pulled back.

Belle blinked, confused, as if the dim room had become too blindingly bright. "What's happening?"

"You shouldn't have done that,“ seemed to fall, just as confused from his mouth. The voice too soft and too low, spacey without any lyrical quality, to sound right. Like the face there as her vision was clearing, everything sharper, smoother, was different.

Skin that was soft and pale as snow, as the eggs in the high trees of spring. The eyes, brown like the pools of sap at the feet of those same trees in deep summer, caught in some great warring combination of surprised accusation and desperate pity.

"Kiss me," Rumpelstiltskin snapped the words, awkward though they tripped on those now light lips, as he grabbed her by shoulders. Commanded through the daze of her muddled confusion.

"What did You do?" She sat up, swaying slightly, pulling back against the force that drug her closer. It felt like there was dance, like she should move quicker. Give into the urge, spring up, with a twist, lithe as the wind, smooth as oil, untouchable, lest she wished it otherwise, to evade the grasp on her.

"Kiss me, again," was phrased like it should have been a demand. An ordered instruction. From a mind, a master, that had not asked in centuries. But it came out a winded plea, desperation and not joy, in those words now. As her eyes fell on the pale hands around her dark brown-grey wrists. Her dark skin.

She jerked back then, light as air, fast as quicksilver, pushing upward and back to free her hands. Dark‘ stalkﬁngers and sharpened nails, shoving at hands and arms that were as light and weak as butter. "Get away from me!” she had shouted, panic  turning to liquid acid on her tongue.

Having only enough time to watch him topple from the spinning wheels‘ seat, unsteadily, as though his legs refused to catch and give him even his accustomed even balance, just as he vanished entirely.


End file.
